Please Hate Me
by Secrets Under My Sleeves
Summary: "Just do it Clare. What have you got to lose?"  "You mean besides my life?"   "You're weak, Clare, useless. You would be doing everyone a favor. You just take up space."


Hello loves, miss me? Of course you did. I know you did. You didn't? Psh, stop lying. I know you missed me. Don't deny it. I have a lovely idea for a new fanfic. It's back to depressing for me. So expect an update with Never Let You Go. Also, don't expect on update with Friends, Feuds, and Fire. I realized it's best not to put my opinion of people I love out there for multiple reasons even though they aren't all accurate. So if there's a cool bishy reading this who goes by Salsa I must say that ILY! Okay. That's enough rambling for one day. Here's my new story, Please Hate Me.  
>Clare's Hair- .<br>Clare's makeup- Just picture Avril Lavigne.

Please Hate Me.

"_Just do it Clare. What have you got to lose?"  
><em>"You mean besides my life?"  
><em>"You're weak, Clare, useless. You would be doing everyone a favor. You just take up space." <em> The voice sneered cruelly with no hint of mercy.  
>"People would miss me. I'm loved." I said trying to convince myself more than the bodiless voice.<br>_"Whatever you say 'Clarabelle'; whatever keeps the tears away." The voice chuckled.  
><em>"Who ARE you? Go-go away from me!" I finally shouted, sick of the cruel voice inside my head.  
><em>"Bye bye, Clare, sweet dreams."<em> The voice faded out eerily.  
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And then I woke, sweaty and scared in my bed. The feeling hadn't gone away. The suicidal thoughts were still floating throughout my head, the only thing that made it bearable was the fact The Voice had finally left me alone, free to breathe easy.

I glanced over to the clock on my nightstand. It was 4:13. Might as well stay up now since I would only get another hour of sleep anyway. I willed myself to roll out of bed, and onto the soft, carpeted floor. I then got up and started to get ready for another torturous day of high school.  
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I walked up the steps of Degrassi, head down, walking fast. My dyed, straight jet black bangs covered my face. I felt all eyes on me, whispers of what happened over the summer. Rumors in this school spread like wildfire. Everyone was staring at the Saint gone bad, the loser, the girl who tried to kill herself.

My eyes shifted nervously, left to right and back. I felt extremely uncomfortable with all of the eyes on me. I quickened my pace even more and headed into Degrassi.

"Clare Edwards, please report to the office, Clare Edwards to the office." The annoying voice of the school receptionist over the intercom woke me from a beautiful day dream. I blushed when I noticed how everyone was, again, staring at me. I silently got up, head bowed, and bashfully walked out of Trig to the office.  
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"Clare. I think you know why you were called in here." Mr. Simpson, our principal said. I didn't reply, just looked at him. "Ms. Edwards. Please don't give me a hard time. I'm here to help you." He smiled. Yeah, I wanted to say, you want to help me. Because shoving pills down my throat and making me go to therapy really, really helps.

We waited for me to speak in silence. After a couple of moments of quiet he sighed. "Clare," he started, "I just don't know what to do with you." I rolled my eyes. Here it was, again, the long speech about how I used to be such a good influence and why did I change? Is it your friends, Clare? Was it that "Gothic" boy you dated with the Hearse? Or, Clare, was it your new transgender friend?

I tuned him out and glanced up at the clock. 2:52. Legally, he could only keep me for three more minutes.  
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The cold autumn wind hit my bare arms raising goose bumps. It was a beautiful day out, but I forgot my sweater at home. All I had on was a plain, grey top, black, baggy sweat pants, a pair of old converse, and my must have's, the things I wouldn't leave my room without, my bracelets approximately 50 of them, covering almost a half of my forearm.

I couldn't wait to get home and lie down. It was a long day. I walked up the front steps to my house, took out my keys and unlocked the door. I stepped over my dog, Roxie, and headed up the stairs, making sure to make enough noise to let my mom know I was home. I opened my door, threw my empty bookbag on the floor and fell onto my bed.  
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"_It's easy Clare. Take a bullet to the head, swallow some pills. Don't be a coward. You already tried once and failed. Try again. Show no sign of weakness." The Voice said._

I bolted upright. This was the third night in a row where The Voice came and haunted me. I didn't even care anymore. I fell back asleep.  
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_I opened my eyes and saw rows of people in front of me. First in line was Helen. My mother. Mom, I asked, what are all these people doing in my room? She smiled a sad smile and disappeared, leaving nothing but a thin wisp of blue smoke. My dad appeared after her, and then Darcy, Adam, Allie, Eli, Sav, Mr. and Mrs. Bhandari, Jake, KC, Jenna, Drew, Declan, Peter, Anya, Dave, Connor, and many more once they became first in line, looked at Clare, smile a sad, rueful smile, and disappeared into a blue smoke. _

_After all the people had disappeared I finally took a look around the room. I was in a church. A beautiful, old church with extremely high ceilings, floor length stained glassed windows depicting biblical stories. The pews were a pretty mahogany and there appeared to be a big floating cross in the very front of the room. I looked down. I appeared to be lying on a bed. A bed in a church? I sat up. My lips formed an O shape. I was in a casket.  
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End file.
